


Off We Go

by Barkour



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Camping, Established Relationship, F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-08
Updated: 2012-04-08
Packaged: 2017-11-03 06:25:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/378307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barkour/pseuds/Barkour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sokka has a rough time getting up in the morning, but freshly cooked meat and a smiling Suki do a lot to ease that burden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Off We Go

**Author's Note:**

> This is for BeccaP, with love and gratitude for her commission. I hope you enjoy this! Thank you so very much all your kindness over the years. <3

Suki bent over him, her untied hair swinging out; the trembling sweep over it across his cheek roused him. Sokka thought it a spider and brushed at his face. Her hand was light on the small of his back. They'd slept with their sleeping bag open, the night too hot, too still to bear such enclosure.

"Wake up, lazy," said Suki. She slapped his butt. "I caught us breakfast. I hope you like pandafox."

"'m gettin' up," he muttered to the bag. Suki slapped his butt again. Sokka flopped his arm at her. "Stop hittin' m'butt."

"I like your butt," said Suki. She patted it more gently then. "It's nice and firm. Get up."

He cracked an eye open. The sun was only just coming up over the distant mountain ridge; the trees swallowed what little light crept over that hump. The sky was a lightening grey, and Suki's face was thick with shadows, her hair a dark red like clay. Without the make-up she was plain. The sturdy line of her nose begged for his thumb, stroking down it. Sokka made as if to get up. Suki shifted her weight; her legs bunched, thighs tensing as she readied to stand, and Sokka caught her wrist.

"Sokka!"

He pulled her back down into their shared bag. Suki's hands closed around his arms, to push him away, to hold him there. She was laughing. Her head fell back so her throat showed. Sokka bussed the soft underside of her chin.

"We'll be late," she said.

"Who even gets up this early in the morning?" He nuzzled her ear. She smelled, as he smelled, of earth and sweat and smoke from the fire last night and the thick, bitter ointment she'd made to rub on their skin and keep the flies at bay. He buried his nose in her plain, coarse hair. "You smell great."

"You smell terrible," said Suki. "And it was your schedule. Remember?"

"Why do people always want me to plan these things?" he grumbled. He kissed her head and got hair in his mouth. "Oh, bleh! Gross! Ugh!"

"Smooth, Sokka," she laughed. "If you're so hungry, breakfast is ready."

He pulled back from her, flicking his tongue out. "No offense, Suki, but you need a bath."

Suki pushed him away. Her eyebrows arched. "Oh, and you're Mister Sugar Pears and Roses?"

He held his hands up, peacemaking. "I'm just saying, it couldn't hurt."

Suki shoved him back down and away, away from that corded bend of her shoulder his hand so ached to cup. The crux of her clavicle flashed; she'd left her uwagi loose so the throat gaped. Her breasts, bound, were a soft suggestion, more shadow in that dim early light than anything else.

"Keep it up and you don't get anything to eat, mister," she told him. She stood. There was nothing he could do to stop her.

Sokka rolled onto his back and thumped his head down. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, rubbing out the sleep from them. His head was muzzy, but once woken, he was awake for good. They'd stayed up too late, but then, he couldn't say he regretted that. Pushing up onto his elbows, he looked over to Suki as she bent over the small, dry fire she'd made, same place as the night before. A pile of fur, bloodied bones, and cast-offs sat near her foot.

"I could've helped with that," he protested. He found his boots and pulled them on. "You should've woken me up sooner."

"What? You didn't think I could handle skinning them all on my own?" She threw him an amused look.

He yawned as he crossed over to the fire, still rubbing at his eyes. His own hair was loose; his skin prickled where it brushed his shoulders. He'd forgone tunic and trousers alike for bed, and when he crouched beside Suki, she covered her mouth and said, "Boots and fundoshi?"

"No one else is going to see me." He leaned forward on his toes and sniffed appreciatively at the fire. "Oh, Suki. How'd you know?"

She pressed her shoulder to his. Her breath shivered hotly against his cheek; it was stale, and he thought he wanted to kiss her.

"It's your favorite," she said. "Meat."

"No," he said, "you're my favorite."

Suki laughed again, so he did kiss her. Her lips were full and soft; there was a little indentation near the one corner, where she'd bit her lip and broken the skin. "Oh, Sokka," she'd said, her breath catching as he bent between her legs. She'd bit her lip then. Swallowed the rest.

Now, she reached up to card her fingers through his hair. She cupped his nape. Her fingers were rough, strong; she held him firmly there as her mouth opened to him and her tongue spilled out. Sokka turned his head and stroked her shoulder with his hand, stroked so her uwagi gaped and the sleeve slithered down her arm. His thumb swept the warm, so warm, so very warm and enticing swell of her breast. Suki's hands were steady at his nape, at the small of his back, her palms hot on his bare skin as she drew him to her.

Sokka drew in a ragged breath and then, cautiously, another. His eyes opened. Suki's brown lashes were so very near he could count each one of them.

"Suki," he said, "I think the meat's burning."

Her lashes lifted. Her eyebrows lifted, too. He felt her lips moving against his, then her hands slid away from him.

"Oh, Sokka," she sighed.

"What?" He reached for the skewers, turning them around. "It's not healthy to eat burned meat, and it ruins the flavor, too."

"Always thinking with your stomach," said Suki. She began turning skewers, too.

"Ahhh," said Sokka, relief gushing from him like hot water from a spring. "That was close."

Suki told him, "You're such a romantic," but she was still smiling and as she rose to get rid of the cast-offs, she paused a moment to sweep his hair back from his brow and kiss the little wrinkle between his eyebrows.

"I'm going to the bathroom," Suki called.

Sokka yawned and scratched at his neck. Another couple minutes and the meat would be ready, still juicy but cooked through. Good thing he'd caught it before it burned.

"Okay, but hurry up," he shouted back. "We're supposed to meet up with the rest of the warriors at Hong Hua Jiang tonight."

"Sokka!"

He hitched his shoulders higher. "Well," he said, "we _are_." He tested one of the neat squares of meat, plucked off a skewer and juggled between his hands till he thought it cool enough to bite into. Hot, red juices squished between his teeth. A sweet and smoky flavor burst on his tongue. He moaned rapturously and rocked back on his feet.

A mess of cloth hit him in the face. His trousers fell from his head to the dirt. Sokka flailed and found his tunic, unceremoniously turned inside out. That was his doing. They'd been in a rush to get to bed and he'd forgotten to sort his clothes out after.

"Well, hurry up," said Suki sweetly. "We don't want to be late. Get dressed."

Sokka stuffed the rest of that stolen square of meat into his mouth. Another helpless moan rose up from his chest. He couldn't help it. He was in love.

"Suki," he said around the meat. "Suki. I love you."

She was busy scraping the meat from the skewers into a lined bag. Without looking up, she said dryly, "You love me, or you love meat?"

"I love you both," he said. He grabbed another two squares from the bag. "But if I had to choose between you or meat, I would definitely choose you."

Suki wiped the skewers off on her trousers, cleaning gristle and ash alike. "You know," she said thoughtfully, filching two squares from the bag for herself, "that's actually really sweet of you, Sokka."

He swallowed and oh, the meat tasted so good all the way down. Kind of like Suki, when he thought about it. The sun had climbed just high enough that the light filtering between the trees caught red sparks in her hair, made her pale lips show nearly pink. There was that bite mark, a little dark spot on her lower lip. He wanted to kiss her again.

"Maybe we could be a little late," he said.

"Oh, no," said Suki, cinching the bag closed, "we couldn't. You made a very strict schedule, and I think we should stick to it."

He leaned closer, closer, till his chin rested on her shoulder. "Suki..."

What he wanted was to lay her out in their bag again and hook her legs over his shoulders and lick into her until she shouted his name, until she couldn't just bite her lip and swallow it down.

Their noses brushed. Suki was smiling, the corners just tipping up, the swollen center pinched, as if she were trying to hide it.

"You," she said, "need a bath."

"We both need a bath," he suggested.

Their breath mingled. His eyes lidded. He couldn't stop looking at that red spot on her lips. He couldn't stop looking at her lips. Suki tipped her head, just so, and her hair, set once more to swinging, brushed his throat.

"There's a creek just a short walk over there," she said.

"Bet I beat you there," whispered Sokka.

"Bet you can't," murmured Suki.

Suki won; he hadn't really thought he could beat her there. But when Suki, laughing, wrapped her arms around his shoulder and kissed him warmly on the cheek, well, he figured they were both winners when you got right down to what really mattered. The creek was cold, the water licking at his bones, but Suki was warm and Suki was strong, and her hands at his back were thick and rough and steady. Sokka conceded.


End file.
